


Unplumbed Depths

by lastcrazyhorn



Series: Blown [3]
Category: Midsomer Murders - All Media Types
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Closeted Character, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, POV Alternating, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27706556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastcrazyhorn/pseuds/lastcrazyhorn
Summary: Troy likes Barnaby.  Barnaby doesn't have a problem with that.  Shenanigans ensue.
Relationships: Joyce Barnaby/Tom Barnaby, Tom Barnaby/Gavin Troy
Series: Blown [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025149
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11
Collections: Midsomer_Melee





	Unplumbed Depths

"I have a problem," Troy's voice is hesitant as it breaks into the silence between them.

They are driving back from the crime scene; a tiny farm in the middle of god knows where. 

"And?" Barnaby asks, voice distant as the greater part of his mind is still focused on what they just saw.

"I think--I think I might fancy someone, sir."

"That's wonderful, Troy. Why are you telling _me_?" 

Barnaby's full attention is abruptly on him, and he swallows hard at the knowledge.

"I like a bloke, okay?" 

Barnaby's mouth twists in the semblance of a smile. 

"I reiterate. Why _me_?"

"Because it IS you, sir!" 

Barnaby sucks a breath in, and Troy suddenly wants to stop the car and run and hide in the forest. 

"Pull over here," Barnaby instructs, somehow reading his mind. "I'll drive."

They stop and switch, and Troy tries to desperately ignore how nice it is to sink into the warmth of the seat that Barnaby just vacated. 

"I'm sorry, sir," Troy says miserably, once they're back on the road.

"For having feelings, Troy? I hardly think that's something worth apologizing for."

"I should have kept it myself. You probably want to get rid of me now," Troy says, blinking hard at the wetness in his eyes.

"Troy." 

He doesn't answer.

"Gavin."

That gets his attention. He looks up, surprised. 

"Sir?"

Barnaby pushes a hand through his hair and sighs audibly. 

"Listen to me, _Gavin._ Since that gets your attention, and since this is a very unofficial conversation."

He listens.

"You are allowed to have feelings. You rarely have any control over whom your mind chooses to fancy."

"But sir, it's you."

Barnaby's mouth twists in something of a smirk. 

"So you said, Mr T--Gavin."

"I shouldn't have mentioned it, because there's no hope of anything in return, sir. That's what I meant," He says, ducking his head in embarrassment.

"Ah."

He looks up, startled at the sound.

"Sir?" 

Barnaby couldn't possibly mean what he thinks he might. 

"If," Barnaby drums his fingers on the wheel for a moment before continuing. "If you are serious about wanting a . . . a liaison of some sort, I would be willing to indulge your curiosity."

"But, but, what about Joyce?" 

He is gobsmacked that _this_ is the conversation they are now having.

Barnaby smiles at him, and answers.

"Oh, I would tell her about it."

Troy is barely aware that his mouth is hanging open unattractively.

"She encourages me to indulge from time to time in _trustworthy_ engagements. I have a feeling that you would, should we do this, keep this to yourself?" 

"She does?" His voice is breathless.

Shock. Absolute shock. This is a dream. Has to be. 

"My wife and I love each other very much. We are very honest with each other. She knows that I have sexual interests in men. That doesn't detract any from my interest in _her_ , but it sweetens our relationship when I am given permission to _act_ on those interests."

Silence reigns between them as he tries to process what his superior has just told him.

"And," He says after a few moments. "Would you be willing to . . ." He trails off. 

"I would be willing to indulge with _you._ Yes, Troy. Gavin. I would, but not before we wrap this case up. It would have to be after. If you are, indeed, interested."

Barnaby glances toward him with a surprising amount of warmth in his eyes. 

"After, sir. I would--," He swallows hard. "I would be interested. Please." 

. . .

The case is over, the paperwork done (or at least the important parts). Barnaby graciously suggests that they both take the evening off, and come back in the morning when they are more fresh.

They are walking out the door when their conversation from before clicks in his mind, and suddenly he feels the tips of his ears turning bright red.

"Sir?" He asks as they make their way across the dark parking lot.

"Hm?"

"Could we, um," He glances around the empty lot, feeling terribly self-conscious. "Could we meet tonight, sir?" 

"You're still interested?" Barnaby is nonchalant in his response.

He has to swallow all of the excess saliva that has suddenly found its way into his mouth.

"Yes, yes sir."

"Well then, you can drive us both to my house, then," Barnaby suggests cheerily, looking straight at him for a moment before getting into the car.

"Will Joyce be there tonight?" He asks as he drives.

"She will not be. She is visiting Cully in London."

Silence reasserts itself between them until they arrive. They make their way inside, and Troy quickly shucks his coat off. 

"May I offer you a drink, Gavin?" 

"Ah, no. No, sir. Would it be very crass of me to say that the only thing I want to drink is you?" 

Barnaby--no, it's Tom now, isn't it?--laughs, and he smiles weakly.

"May I kiss you, sir?" 

Tom's response is to step toward him until they are resting chest to chest, and put a hand to his cheek. 

He leans down and pulls Tom in even closer, licking his way into his mouth. It's easy to control the kiss, and before too long, he has Tom pushed up against a wall, knee in-between his thighs, head tilted back as he takes what he wants from him.

He breaks the kiss to breathe, suddenly aware that Tom is breathing heavily in front of him. He looks down and finds strong hands fisted tightly in his shirt. 

"Can we be naked? I want to see you," He asks, rutting gently against him.

"Yes, please. We can mostly certainly be _naked_ ," Tom groans.

He takes Gavin by the hand and leads him further into the house, up to his and Joyce's bedroom. 

"Are we going to do it on you and your wife's bed?" Troy asks, somewhat surprised.

"It?" Tom quips. "We can do _it,_ and anything else you can think of here just fine."

"I want to touch you," Troy says with a wide grin.

"We touch every day. I'm afraid you'll have to be a bit more specific," Is Tom's dry response.

"I want to touch you _everywhere,_ " Troy says, pushing Tom down on the bed. 

He toes off his shoes, and rips his tie off, uncaring of where it lands. Tom, on the other hand, is a bit more careful with his clothing. He, like Troy, had taken off his coat downstairs, but now he pulls off his shoes and tie, putting them into a neat pile on the side of the bed. 

"I want to lick you _everywhere_ ," Troy groans, grinding down on Tom.

He undoes the rest of Tom's shirt buttons, then pushes his undershirt up out of the way and buries his face in his chest.

Tom is warm, and a mixture of soft and hard, and for a moment, Troy just _feels._ He pulls him the rest of the way out of his shirts, and then shimmies his way out of his own, before burying his face back in his chest. Tom's hands come up to grip him by the hair as he licks and bites a line up his chest. 

"You're so warm, sir," Troy remarks.

"It's certainly warm right now," Tom grunts, twisting out of the way when Troy sticks his tongue in his armpit.

"Don't tell me you're ticklish, sir!" 

"Fine. I won't tell you."

"I'll just have to remember it," Troy says in return, voice muffled as he lightly chews on the underside of his bicep.

"I'm beginning to think you have an oral fetishhh," He says, groaning as Troy undoes his trousers and belt and yanks them downward to reveal a pair of black boxer briefs..

He mouths at the bulge in front of him, and then leans forward and sucks him hard and sloppily through his pants. 

"You can take them off, if you so desire," Tom's voice is breathless.

Troy laughs at the sound, giddy from the moment, and sucks again through the cotton before pulling away. There is a definite wet spot left by his saliva, and he grabs it with his hand and squeezes until Tom makes a sound closer to a whimper. 

"Shall I stop, sir?" Troy's voice is on the cutting edge between playful and cruel. 

He doesn't wait for a response, just leans in and sucks again through the cotton, adding a litany of sloppy wet sounds with his mouth until Tom is all but pulling him off by the hair.

"Let me, just stop for a mo', let me," Tom slurs. 

He fumbles with his trousers, sex drunk on sensation and barely able to make his fingers move accordingly.

Troy watches as he finally swears and kicks his trousers off with a snarl, reaching for Troy's belt, only to have his hands pushed away. 

"Did you know that I can taste you, sir?" Troy grins, mouthing down at the very wet spot now present on Tom's pants.

"I'd hope so, given all that licking you've been doing," He says back, still visibly panting.

His hands have moved to the duvet, knuckles white as he fists it, and it gives Troy ideas the more he looks.

"Turn over? Will you?" Troy asks, moving farther upon the bed, and beckoning toward him.

Tom eyes him briefly before slowly acquiescing, turning over carefully to avoid his cock colliding with the bed. He moves toward Troy on his hands and knees, eyeing him warily. 

"Why?" 

He grins, and quickly unbuckles his belt, and pulls his trousers off with an inpatient snap. He's wearing a thong, and his cock head is tipping out over the top. 

"Can't say I expected that," Tom says, pushing forward for a taste. 

Troy lets him lick at the precome gathered at the top only for a second, before pushing him away. He slides over to Tom's backside and gives his arse a light tap. 

"I've thought of somewhere I forgot to taste!"

"Fuck," Tom groans in a low voice, face in the duvet. 

Pulling down his pants, but leaving his cock and balls still trapped, Troy reaches out and takes a squeeze of each buttock. 

"You've got quite a bit of muscle here, sir," He remarks, sounding as calm as someone commenting on the weather.

Tom's hips are pushing into the bed ever so slightly, but a hand to his side stops him. Two big hands spread his cheeks apart to show a pretty little hole, furled and brownish pink, and just ready for the taking. 

At the feel of a tongue on his hole, Tom yelps and pushes forward, pulling away from the mouth.

"Mrs Barnaby never licked you, sir?"

"It's not that, I'm," Tom swallows audibly. "I'm a bit sensitive there," He manages to grit out hoarsely. 

"Do you like it, sir?" 

Another swallow, and then a quick affirming nod into the pillow that Tom has snagged and brought to his mouth.

"If you scream, will the neighbours hear?" 

"Walls're too thick," He mumbles back.

"Good," Troy answers brightly, reaching forward and yanking the pillow away. 

The first lick sends Barnaby's face back into the duvet, his fists catching it on the second lick, and by the time Troy starts slurping at his hole, he is whimpering steadily with every new breath in. His toes curl and his back arches, and he feels he is in dangerous proximity to orgasming, when Troy shoves a finger in and he screams silently. 

"Stop, stop, stop," He wheezes. "Unless you would like this to be over much too quickly," He pushes out the words in one shaky breath; one ending on a long gasping breath in.

He looks back at Troy over his shoulder, shuddering as he see his subordinate's face shiny with spit and eyes bright with pleasure.

"Are you finding your first gay experience to be all you'd hoped for?" He asks, trying for some semblance of control.

"Who said this was my first experience?" Troy says, before climbing forward and kissing him. 

"On your back, go on," Tom asserts, pushing at his shoulder, and reaching down to his sopping pants to yank hard on his balls. 

He winces at the pain, but it's a small price to pay in order not to embarrass himself prematurely.

"Tabling that for later when both of our brains are back in our heads," Tom says, leaning over his prone body and pulling his damp thong the rest of the way off.

Troy's cock pops forward once it's free, and bounces off his stomach, leaving a slimy trail in its wake.

"I would very much like to suck you now, Mr Oral Fetish," Tom announces.

"Funny," Troy banters back. "I would like to do the same."

He casually puts a hand behind his head and gestures Barnaby toward him.

"We are not the same height. It is difficult to . . ." He trails off.

"Suck and be sucked?" Troy offers.

"Yes, that. It is difficult when both partners are not of the same height."

"I think I'll manage," Troy answers, grinning cheekily.

Sighing, and wondering when he lost control of the situation, Tom agrees to let himself be sucked.

Pulling his wet pants down, and then off, Troy licks at his cockhead as gentle as a newborn kitten. He chokes himself on Troy's cock at the sensation, barely refraining from gagging. 

"A little warning next time?" He asks. 

"How about this, sir? Do you like this?" 

And Troy swallows him. Nose to his balls. Swallows. Him. Down. 

Barnaby scrabbles at something to hold onto, and grasps at the smooth hip next his head. He does what he can to keep from kneeing the other man in the head from the sensation. He mouths at Troy's cock, mind awhirl at the suction suddenly being exerted upon him. He was already close; didn't Gavin understand what it meant when he yanked on himself?

His DS was clearly a man of unplumbed depths. 

Tom drives his tongue into the slit of the cockhead in his mouth, and he squeezes his eyes against the urge to come as a finger is eased into his hole. He grasps the part of the cock he can't cover with his mouth with his hand, and hangs on as the warm wet pressure on him increases once more. 

He can hear Troy gagging himself on his cock. He can feel his cock ramming the back of the other man's throat. It gives a little, gives a little, and his mind gets nudged by the hard finger in his arse, and and and. 

He's coming. He can't feel anything between the heat from around him and inside him and he's absolutely coming. The room whites out around the edges of his vision, and distantly he feels liquid splattering against his face. He can taste semen, which is one of those tastes that is far too hard to forget, and he is just aware enough to know it's not his own. 

"Wow," Troy manages in the space between them, and distantly he agrees.

**Author's Note:**

> "You come a lot, sir," Troy remarks in the car the next day.
> 
> "If you swallowed, how exactly would you know?"


End file.
